The Adventures Of Fred Smith
by O.T. West
Summary: Proof that anybody can be a hero. Join Fred Smith as he rises through the ranks of Starfleet,Despite his overwhelming quirks. I really appreciate your reviews.
1. Chapter 1

The New Guy in the Red Shirt: The Adventures of Fred Smith

The young man of average height, average weight, average build, and otherwise just plain average everything stepped off the shuttle in hanger bay 2 of the Starship Pons&Fleischman. He grinned from ear to ear. Yes, he had finally graduated from Star Fleet Academy after only 13 years. It took 13 years, not because he was stupid. No, far from it. He was one of the best and brightest Star Fleet had to offer. In fact, he graduated 5th in his class, when he did finally graduate. You see, Ensign Fred Smith is a bit accident prone, and spent most of that 13 years unconscious for one reason or another, in a hospital bed.

Things were looking up. He had graduated, and with only suffering one severe allergic reaction during the graduation party. And his 45 minute shuttle trip was completely free from the threat of near death.

A pretty Bajoran lieutenant greeted him. "Hello" she said, "I'm Lieutenant Siresa."

Fred walked forward, taken by her beauty so much that he didn't see the cable running across the floor. His ankle twisted, tripping him up, his head bounced off the shuttles warp nacelle before crashing hard into a diagnostic panel which had been just rolled into place. He hit the floor, you guessed it, unconscious.

Fred awoke in sickbay the next day, and was released not long after. "All right." he determined, "I had one little mishap, but I'm not going to let that get me down. After all, this is a ship of scientific exploration, not a battleship. How much trouble can I get myself into?"

He reported to the Captain. "So, you're Ensign Smith." the captain said looking him over. "You know, we got two more members added to the medical staff just for you?"

"Only two," Smith said in shock, "someone's feeling optimistic."

The captain went on, "Anyway, you'll be training on navigation. You're already a day behind, so you need to report to Lieutenant Jankouski at once."

"Yes Sir." Smith said turning to leave the Captains ready room. The door opened as he approached, but with a flash of sparks, the door slammed shut on Ensign Smith.

Two days later, when he was released from sick bay, Fred reported to his new training post, where he found a real problem. Lieutenant Jankouski and the Chief Engineer were peering down a Jeffreys tube.

"Ensign Fred Smith reporting for duty sirs." Fraid said, happy to be doing anything.

The two men looked him up and down and then smiled at each other. "We have a problem, Smith." Jankouski said. "It seems the ship can't turn left."

"Can't turn left?" Fred asked in shock, pausing to absorb the information. "Ok, what do you need me to do?" he asked, eager to help.

The chief engineer said, "About 50 feet down that Jeffreys tube is a reset button for the systems that makes the ship turn left. I would do it myself, but I'm a big man, and just don't fit.

Fred turned to Jankouski who admitted shyly, "I'm claustrophobic."

The chief engineer cut in hurridly, "We need someone average sized who is not claustrophobic. Are you our man?"

'I am average sized' Fred thought, 'and claustrophobia is one of the few conditions I don't suffer from.' "I'm your man." He said.

"OK", the chief engineer said, "We have to hurry. We're expecting a delegation of Vulcans in 15 minutes, and we have to be ready."

Fred ducked into the Jeffreys tube. "Oh Smith," the chief engineer added, "I'm sorry for the door problem."

Fred spun around into the tube, "Don't worry, that kind of thing happens to me all the..."  
SMACK!  
The door to the Jeffreys tube flipped up hitting him in the face. The two men pulled Fred from the Jeffreys tube. Fred was dazed but conscious. Teeth dribbled from his mouth as he tried to speak. "Caitian women are hot!"

"Did you say, 'Caitian women are hot'? Jankouski asked.

Fred's head bobbed toward the navigator. "Wouldn't you be if you wore a fur coat everywhere?" he giggled.

"We need to get him to sick bay." One man said to the other.

"I can get there my...my...self!" Fred announced.

The two men had a lot to do, so they let him go. Fred staggered through the corridors drawing stares wherever he went. And no wonder, his hair was tousled, his eyes bloodshot and his entire face was turning the most remarkable shade of purple. Fred's head spun and his ears rang. He was completely disoriented.

Fred stumbled into a large receiving room full of people. 'The Vulcan delegation' he realized through the fog in his mind. He had better go pay his respects. Fred staggered toward the Vulcans who were in reality Romulan spies. Mistaking his bright purple complexion for that of a rebel from the moon of Tholian 7, they drew disruptors from their cloaks and fired.

Fred awoke in sick bay to be cheered as a hero. He was the one who single handedly flushed out the Romulan spies. Additionally, for having been shot selflessly by throwing himself between the spies and his commanding officers as they fired their disruptors he received the medal for Bravery and a promotion to Lieutenant First Class.

Fred's first two weeks had gone very well. He had only been unconscious and in sick bay three times.


	2. Chapter 2

The Adventures of Fred Smith: the continuing humiliation

How humiliating. He was considered a hero just a couple of weeks ago. Now he was being transferred in disgrace. 'I still say,' he thought to himself, 'that transporter was messed up before I got there.'

He had volunteered to fill in for he transporter chief and beam the entire senior staff to an away mission. Beaming them there went okay, except that they materialized upside down.

Things went well on the away mission. It was a first contact mission. Fred didn't see what the big deal was with this race. Prudes through and through. They insisted on covering themselves almost completely in their starched clothes acting as everyone else was so dirty. 'What did they think, they were Amish?' Thought Fred. Well, anyway, they were pretty obnoxious.

The senior officers were being sent off by every government official of the entire planet. Not only were the officials there, but their mates, their secretaries, their mates secretaries, their children with their secretaries.

Famous people were there with their people. And the employee of the month at the local Wal-mart, as well as about 2000 more people, all sending them off in a most formal gala event.

Finally, the call came to bring them back. Fred was sure he could keep them upright this time. If only it had gone that well. Fred could see figures starting to appear. Something didn't look right about the materializing form. All the instruments seemed okay, so he completed the transport. The clothing of the entire senior staff just hung there for a moment before they dropped to the floor.

'Oh NO!' Fred gasped in horror, 'I've killed them!'

"SMITH!" the yell came across Fred's comm badge.

Fred replied reluctantly, "Captain?"

"What in Sam Hill is going on up there?" the captain shouted. "We've got nothing but our comm badges for covering! Get us out of here!"

"R-r-r-right away s-s-sir!" Fred stammered.

He ran to a side door and beat on it. It was the restroom where the transporter chief had fallen asleep an hour and a half ago. "What?" echoed a groggy voice from inside.

"We've got big trouble out here." Fred cried.

The transporter chief flew out the door still pulling up his pants. Fred chanced a glance inside. "Wow," he said under his breath, "their bathroom is a lot nicer than the one for the navigators." Something caught his eye, a Caitian sports illustrated, swimsuit edition. Fred bent over to pick it up. Right then the toilet began to overflow. Fred's feet slid out from under him, sending him bouncing off the sink before landing head first and unconscious into the backed up commode where he nearly drowned.

After Fred was released from sick bay four days later, he and three medical personnel were informed they were being transferred off the ship.

Like I said, humiliating. Fred did feel lucky that he didn't electrocute himself with the transporter.


	3. Chapter 3

The Adventures of Fred Smith: Fred's Grand Day Out

Fred had been assigned to the Starfleet medical frigate Typhoid Mary. And boy, he never felt more at home. Just think of it, one huge hospital in space, equipped to handle any medical emergency. With Fred on board, all the collective medical knowledge of the crew would be put to the test.

After settling into his new quarters, he decided to check out the crew lounge. He wanted to do so partially to check out the social scene, and partially to celebrate the first time being transported without something going wrong, terribly wrong. His elation was short lived however, when he mistakenly stepped into the laundry chute instead of the sonic shower. He was found four hours later nearly at the end of the permanent press cycle. Fred was still loaded with static electricity two days later when he was released from sick bay.

In fact, it was that very static electricity that thwarted his second attempt to visit the crew lounge. He was in his quarters putting on a fresh shirt (not that the old one was dirty, after all, he was wearing it when he had his laundry accident) when his hands came way too close to a fire alarm. Some residual static from his body jumped to it, setting it off. Instantly he was smothered in fire suppressant foam. Fred surprisingly was only held in sick bay until that next morning. It seems his body had become quite immune to the effects of fire suppressant foam after all these years.

Fred had failed to make it one more time while leaving sick bay. He tripped, landing on a whole rack of hypo-sprays, injecting himself 37 times with female hormones. He wasn't held in sick bay for that one, but refused to leave his quarters for two weeks while his voice came back down to its normal octave.

Finally, after 2 1/2 weeks, Fred made it to the crew lounge. He bellied up to the bar, ready to order a good ordinary drink. A drink any Lieutenant might order, in any lounge, on any ship in Starfleet. "Bartender," Fred said, bolstered with manly confidence, "give me a Shirley Temple." The bartender scowled, handing him a glass from the replicator.

Fred spun around, scanning the room. He saw a group of ensigns and lieutenants chattering about the latest gossip aboard the ship. It was no use talking to them, they were probably talking about him. His suspicions were confirmed when one of them pointed at him, causing the whole group to snicker. They were probably on one about the hypo-spray incident. What was that rack of hypo-sprays doing there anyway?

Suddenly, Fred's eyes locked on a lone figure sitting in a dark corner of the lounge. It was a Caitian woman looking over a glass of synth beer that had a rather impressive head of foam. Fred swigged down the last of his Shirley Temple, sure the (non-existent) alcohol would give him the confidence he needed. He strode over, wearing his best grin. "Hi there." he said thinking he sounded very manly. "I'm Fred. I didn't realize synth beer could get such a great head on it."

The Caitian woman set her glass down, but the foam remained hanging, dripping from her lips. Before Fred realized what was happening, she had sprang from her chair and over the table landing on Fred, sending him crashing to the floor. She had just begun using him as a scratching post when six hospital orderlies poured into the room, dressed in protective clothing of thick pile carpeting and couch cushions. (What else would you wear when trying to protect yourself from Caitian claws?) They quickly pulled her off Fred and began restraining her.

In a state of shock and never to be deterred, Fred staggered to his feet and made his way over to lend any assistance or comfort he could. Weak from the encounter, Fred drug his feet, one after the other across the carpeting. He reached his hand up to caress her cheek and to say everything will be alright.

ZAP!

An arc of static, partially from the carpet and partially a residual effect left from the laundry accident jumped from him to her. The Caitian's fur rippled and stood on end, whipping the already insane woman into a rage. She broke free from her restraints and before she could be restrained again, had managed to bite Fred on the nose.

Before anyone had realized what had happened, Fred's nose had swollen to the size of an orange. By the time he made it to sick bay, it appeared that there was a second head growing off his face.

Knowing his luck with animals, Fred can't help but to keep up his immunizations on such things as West Nile, Lyme disease, Vulcan Buzzard virus, Targh pneumonia, and the deadly Bolian Slug cough. However, he had let his rabies immunization lapse. After three months of intensive and painful treatments, he was right as rain, physically anyway...

To be continued in Fred Gets Dumped...


	4. Chapter 4

The Adventures of Fred Smith

Fred's Grand Day Out: Episode II--Fred Gets Dumped

Fred walked into the lounge with five long scratches across his left cheek. He slumped onto a barstool. "I want to get drunk." Fred announced with a sigh.

"What's the matter Fred?" The bartender said noticing that Fred wasn't his usual upbeat, cheerful self.

"She told me she won't ever talk to me again." Fred moaned. The bartender gave him a quizzical look. Fred explained, "It was an accident. I didn't know staticing a Caitians fur is like the worst insult of all. Not that I meant to do that anyway. I tried to explain, but she slapped me." Fred sighed. "At least she got better."

"Who are you talking about?"

"A'rrar... the rabid Caitian." Fred sobbed into his hands.

The bartender patted Fred on the shoulder. "I've got something you'll like." The bartender pulled several bottles from under the counter and began to mix portions of each into a glass. "Here, give this a try."

Fred took the glass without enthusiasm and took a sip. "Ewww! Ewww!" Fred spat, dropping the glass. "Oh that's gross!" Fred grabbed a long pretzel stick with the big salt chunks from a glass on the bar and began vigorously scraping his tongue with it, until it lodged in his throat. A passerby, well used to Fred's special needs, as most of the crew was by now, gave him the Heimlich, dislodging the pretzel, then passed on.

This didn't stop Fred in the least. He scrambled blindly for the nearest source of liquid to wash his mouth out with. Fred's fingers wrapped around a decorative oil lamp, splashing the flammable kerosene into his mouth. Unfortunately the lamp was lit, setting his face on fire. The bartender without a second thought pulled up a bar tap, dousing the flames with a water hose.

Finally, the vile taste began to subside. "Oh man, what was that?" Fred said crinkling his face. He began absentmindedly sucking on a bar rag.

"That was a Caitian Tongue Tickler." The bartender said, kind of disappointed Fred didn't like it.

"A Caitian Tongue Tickler," Fred repeated "really, can I have another one?" Fred drank his second and third with much more enthusiasm. He was really starting to buzz now, and other things were going on too. Like he couldn't get that tune out of his head. What were those words again? 'Alimony less Kawasaki frightening?' No that wasn't it. He would figure it out, he decided as he began his fourth Caitian Tongue Tickler.

Fred was feeling a lot better than when he came in. Loudly he professed with the slightest bit of a slur, "I've got it, it's 'Ebony is Kodak lightning'." Fred thought for a moment. "No, thats not it." He dove into his fifth Caitian Tongue Tickler.

A red alert sounded. Everyone else jumped and ran to stations. Fred took it as a sign he got it right this time. "Anybody must King Kong Bighting." Fred huffed in frustration. That's not it either. "Maybe its 'Evening is corn chow tightening'." Fred was getting really frustrated, he just wasn't getting it.

A boarding party from the attackers ship beamed into the lounge to set up their base of operations. "Everybody freeze!" Their leader demanded, firing a shot from his phaser into the ceiling.

"Everybody," Fred said thinking, "everybody, yes, thats it!" The very intoxicated Fred was excited. "Everybody ... was ... Kung-Fu ... Fighting, HiYa!" First he said it, then he did it, landing a karate chop to the side of the leaders head. Hiccup "Those kicks were fast as lightning, HiYa!" Fred leapt across the room, spin kicking two more invaders in the head. Hiccup-Hiccup The words were coming fast now. Hiccup "It was a little bit frightening." Hiccup-Hiccup-Hiccup Fred snarled, punching several more in the stomach and sweeping another's legs out from under him. "But they fought, Hiccup with expert, Hiccup timing." Fred dashed up to two more, clapping their heads together, chopped a third in the throat. Hiccup And kidney punched a fourth. Hiccup

A large security team rushed through the door, followed closely by the Captain. The entire invading force lay writhing in pain on the floor at Fred's feet.

The Captain inspected the scene. "What in the galaxy happened here?"

The bartender briefly explained all that had happened from the red alert until the security team rushed in.

"Fred, come here." The Captain ordered.

Fred staggered and swayed up to the Captain, now standing right where the invading force first beamed in. "Yes Hiccup Sir." Fred was starting to not feel so good.

"For your bravery," the Captain explained, "and selfless courage today, I'm putting you in for a Medal of Valor and giving you the field commission of Lieutenant First Class."

It was right then that all the alcohol in Fred's system decided to expel itself all at once, violently. "Blarg!" A chunk of ceiling dislodged by the invaders shot broke free and landed on Fred's head, knocking him concourse.


	5. Chapter 5

The long awaited return of Fred Smith

It was the crew's annual costume ball, Fred dressed as a 20th century performer known for his brightly colored sequin jump suits and pompadours. He had nearly strangled himself with the cape that had a shimmering Viva Las Vegas logo.

He was late for the party by the time he was released from sick bay, and decided to take a shortcut through the hydroponics lab to make up some lost time. Upon entering the bay, Fred's nose began to itch, and his eyes swelled up and began to tear. "This was really weird." Fred thought. He wasn't allergic to any plants. In fact, with all his other problems, he did surprisingly well in the allergy crap shoot. There was only one thing Fred was allergic to, and he almost never ran into those.

Fred wiped the tears from his eyes severely scraping his forehead with the sequins that made up the guitar design on the forearm of his costume. Now through his swollen eyelids, he saw a whole rack of what he was so violently allergic to, rubber gardeners boots.

Ah...ah...achoo! Fred sneeze threw him into the rack of rubber gardeners boots, sending them raining down on top of him. He pulled himself from the pile of rubber gardeners boots, sneezing and itching. The hives developing all over his body.

Ah-achoo!...Ah-choo! Blinded by runny, weepy eyes, Fred tripped over a water hose, sliding across a table covered with testing equipment and vials and beakers of various chemicals. He tried to get up but only managed to get as far as his hands and knees when he fell off the table, landing face first into a raised bed of pansies taking the entire contents of the table with him.

Fred staggered to his feet. Ahhhhhh-choo! The force of the sneeze threw his head into the grow light, sending a huge electrical shock through his body and into the mess that was the pansies.

Fred awoke laying on the floor. His head was hot. Was he sick? No, that felt different. He knew this kind of heat, he was on fire. With his huge pompadour, he was going to need help. Fred stumbled blindly through the exit and down the hall, activating the fire suppressant system along the way.

Smoldering, Fred found the door to the cargo bay where the party was going on, through blurry tunnel vision. The door slid open. He staggered through, the door closing behind him. Through a slight miscalculation, Fred had forgotten to go down a deck, so instead of entering on the main floor, he came in on the catwalk far above the party. Fred was confused and disoriented, but when he saw a beautiful Caitian lady dressed as a crane hook, all other matters were forgotten. It wasn't until Fred was teetering on the edge of the catwalk that Fred realized that what he saw was not a Caitian woman dressed as a crane hook, but simply a crane hook suspended from the ceiling of the cargo bay. This observation came too late for Fred, as he fell over the edge.

"Look!" a crew member wearing an insect costume complete with multi lensed bug eyes pointed in the air and shouted, "Its the flying..."

Thud! Fred hit the ground unceremoniously, breaking his pelvis and rendering himself unconscious. He regained consciousness in sick bay two weeks later, to some rather disturbing news from the Chief Science officer about the hydroponics lab. He explained how they had sealed off hydroponics after they realized that it had become populated by 6" sparkling green men with brightly colored pompadours and leaf capes that when hit by just the right light the words, "Viva Las Vegas" could be seen.

Fred's response to the news was simply, "Oh no, not again." Fred went on to explain that, whenever he comes into contact with rubber gardening boots, the first organic material he comes into contact with is turned into versions of himself. He also gave the Captain coordinates to a little explored sector of space and strongly suggested that they go there at once.

As they approached to within 15 light years, a class M planet came within range of sensors. At 5 light years, they received a transmission from the orbiting beacons around the planet. The beacon warned that this was a quarantined area, and no one was allowed to cross.

Sensors indicated all manner of creatures, all of which in some respect resembled Fred. The tree Smiths from when Fred was eight. The fish Smiths filled the sea from when Fred fell into a Koi pond after a particularly bad boot reaction at 13. As well as the rose Smiths when Fred took a wrong turn into a potting shed in his 7th year at the Academy. To these they will add the pansy Smiths.

"Will they need anything else sent down?" the Captain asked Fred.

"Medical supplies," Fred answered. "Lots and lots of medical supplies."


	6. Chapter 6

The Adventures of Fred Smith/ Much Ado about Custard

Fred was being transferred again. He figured it was time for a change when the Captain wouldn't quit yelling at him. He didn't know what the Captain was so upset about anyway, everybody likes custard.

The replicator in Fred's quarters had malfunctioned. The engineers were all busy cleaning up the corridors after he accidentally set his head on fire, so he decided to take on the job himself. After three days of smashing his fingers and poking himself in the eyes, he had figured out that it had come unplugged. Now that it was working, he had decided to treat himself to a bowl of custard.

KABOOOOM!

The resulting blast was the worst custard related disaster since Fred was 6 and he got his head stuck in the family replicator in an attempt to replicate the custard directly into his mouth. This time the structural integrity field held.

Fred awoke in sick bay a month later to a very disgruntled crew. It seems that the engineers had figured out how to keep the replicators from dispensing nothing but custard just the previous day. As soon as Fred had recovered enough to be released from sick bay, he got dumped off at DS 3 with 200 Federation credits and a transfer to the Ambassador Class Starship, Vlad Tepes, which was going to pick him up the next day.

The promenade on DS 3 was truly a marvelous place. Shops and vendors selling wonders from throughout the galaxy, and the food courts with their wonderful smells. Fred was always hungry for days after coming out of a coma. He found his way to a Vulcan spaghetti restaurant. Their slogan on the sign, "The most logical pasta this side of the quadrant"., just made sense to him.

In front of this most logical establishment was a roped off path which was intended to keep the lunch time crowds moving in an orderly fashion. This was not lunchtime, and the order counter was dead. Fred was not a rule breaker, however, so he dutifully entered where the sign indicated and started zig-zagging down the path.

It appeared that the fat Bolian woman did not have Fred's affinity for following the established order of things. Fred came to this realization because it appeared that she along with her 20 screaming children were going to bypass the path right to the counter. Fred picked up his pace slightly, but he and roped off paths did not always get along. His stomach growled, he moved faster.

Fred cut the first turn too tightly, knocking over the pole. The rope looped around his ankle. Fred tried to kick it off, but it just pulled it tighter. If he stopped to untangle his foot, he wouldn't get to the counter ahead of the Bolian baby horde. Fred tried to take a step, but the rope pulled him down, arms flailing. He popped back up, several ropes across his chest, his right arm now tied to his body. He managed two steps before falling again into the ropes. After a minute of thrashing around, he almost made it to his feet, but tripped and fell. Fred fought and struggled to the point that he was in a cocoon of ropes and iron poles. Fortunately for Fred, his reputation had preceded him. An emergency response team sent to watch over him came to his aid. After 15 minutes of trying to untangle Fred, without success, they resorted to cutting him out. In 20 minutes Fred was out and ready to eat.

Fred strode up to the counter, but was cut off by a large slow man with the walk of an obese sloth. He began to order with his attention split between the change he had pulled from his pocket, and the huge menu board above the order taker. "I would like... a small, plain Vulcan spaghetti... a glass of water... and a..."

"Hey friend," Fred cut in, feeling sorry for the guy, "If you need a credit or two to get something decent, I'll spot you." Fred had 200 credits, after all there was no way he was going to spend it all in one day.

With a flamboyant twist of the wrist, the portly man slid his money back into his pocket. "I would like 2 extra large Vulcan spaghettis with extra meatballs, 3 loaves of bread, a lasagna platter, the #7, the #12, and the #23 with extra cheese. An entire chocolate cake and half a dozen Vulcan sodas." Then he shuffled off to a table where he stared at Fred expectantly.

Fred had the distinct impression that he had just been taken advantage of. "I'll have the #3 with a milk shake."

"Would you like that galaxy sized or universe sized?" The order taker with the fake pointy ears asked.

"Universe sized please." Fred said.

"Mine too." Came from the table.

The order taker rang it in before Fred could stop him. "That will be 157 credits, 13 chits."

Fred sighed, handing over the 158 credits. The clerk handed Fred back his change, shamelessly drawing Fred's attention to the tip jar next to the register with a fake cough and a glance. Fred gave a half shrug, tossing in the change.

It took Fred 6 trips to get all the food to the table, before he himself could eat. He watched the man across from him forgo the fork and spoon and dig in with both hands. "So do I get to know the name of the man I bought lunch for?"

"Herbert Mudd." He said, spraying food all over Fred. He held out a meaty hand. "Maybe you've heard of me?" He asked, still splattering food from his mouth. "I am the #1 purveyor of quality merchandise across the galaxy."

Fred doubted Mudd even knew what the words 'purveyor' and 'merchandise' meant. Beyond Herbert Fred caught sight of an old friend of his academy days. "Kadik!" Fred stood, calling out across the room. The Andorian turned to look, adjusting the glasses on his face before recognizing Fred.

Kadik thrust his arm up in the air, shaking his hand vigorously from the wrist before striding over to Fred with a white toothy grin offset by his blue skin. He did so in the most undignified manner, especially coming from a warrior race. Fred like him all the more for how he was, and man he had good teeth.

"Fred old friend, how are you doing?" Kadik said enveloping Fred's hand in both of his.

"About the same, and you?" Fred asked ushering Kadik to sit.

"I'm.. in between things right now." Kadik volunteered reluctantly.

"Yeah, you were going to go join the Andorian National Ballet, last I heard. What happened with that?" Fred asked.

Kadik sighed, "Well, it seems that there isn't an Andorian National Ballet."

"Wow, so what was it then?"

"I lobbied to the Andorian Parliament to form a National Ballet," Kadik explained, "a lot of people I talked to said that a warrior race had no need for a ballet. But I say that if the Klingon's can have an opera, the Andorians can have a ballet."

Fred was riveted. "So what happened?"

"Oh yes," Kadik went on, "I finally got a couple of senators who wondered was ballet was all about to come and watch me give a demonstration. But I got nervous and accidentally put on the wrong music. Next thing I knew, I was reenacting the big dance scene from Saturday Night Fever."

Fred restrained a giggle. "So, how did they like it?'

"They loved it," Kadik lamented, "everyone on Andoria is running around in white suits with wide collared shirts unbuttoned all the way down their chest. I was so embarrassed that I left."

"That is the..." Fred stifled another laugh, "...saddest story I've heard in a long time."

Kadik, noticing Herbert for the first time, took the opportunity to change the subject. "Did you give him any money?"

Fred frowned. "58 credits." He said, meaning 158.

Kadik confessed, "He took me for 22 credits in the sweets shop down the promenade." He said meaning 222 credits.

Herbert took this opportunity to speak up. "Do you guys want to buy an android?" As if out of nowhere, an android appeared. It was in the appearance of a plain looking Bajoran woman. "I patterned her after my wife."

"Patterned me after your wife?!" the android exclaimed, "I am your wife! Are you trying to sell me again!?" The androids fake plasticine skin began to melt and sag as it got madder and madder.

"Oh no dear," Herbert consoled it, "I was just saying... that... I used the same high quality on the Kirk droids that I'm selling as I did for my own wife droid. Yeah, thats it."

"Really?" the android asked. It's skin all pulling back into place. Herbert nodded. The droid wife turned to Kadik and Fred. "Isn't my husband so strong and handsome?" Its manner suddenly turned more stern. "You didn't feed him, did you?!" Both men shook their heads sincerely. "Good." It smiled, leading Herbert away by the arm.

Kadik chuckled. "That was crazy." He sighed. "So how about you Fred, what have you been up to?"

"I finally got to meet a Caitian woman." Fred said with some amount of enthusiasm.

"Really," Kadik said, "you've wanted to meet a Caitian woman all your life. How did it go?"

"She beat the crap out of me and used me as a scratching post. I could have been killed." Fred regaled.

Kadik was shocked. "That's horrible!"

Fred grinned, "It was the best night of my life!"

A call came over Kadiks communicator. "The transport to Earth will be leaving in 15 minutes."

"Back to Earth?" Fred asked.

"Yeah," Kadik said, "I'm going back to the Academy to become a communications officer. I don't know how I'm going to do it without you Fred. I wouldn't have ever passed the final exam if you hadn't tutored me."

"Everybody had a hard time with that exam, especially with the fire in the classroom that day." Fred said.

"Did you ever figure out how you're shoes spontaneously combusted like that?" Kadik asked.

Fred shrugged, shaking his head. "You'll be fine. Don't worry about it."

"I've got to run." Kadik said. "We've got to keep in touch." With that they parted.

It was getting late. Fred was going to have to find a room for the night. The problem was that any decent room was going to be at least 60 credits, and he only had 42. To make matters worse, all the Federation quarters were full. Fortunately for Fred, he had slipped on some Vulcan spaghetti Hubert had dropped on the floor. Before he had a chance to get up, Fred was trampled by his old nemesis, the Bolian baby horde, affording him a nights stay in sick bay.


	7. Chapter 7

Fred Smith: New Guy in the Red Shirt... again.

Fred had really scored this time. Serving on the Vlad Tepes was going to be great. Yeah, it of course, wouldn't be like the medical frigate with their huge sick bays and all those friendly medical personnel, but the Ambassadors ship would have its own set of perks.

They were on their way to Risa for the first ever peace talks with the Romulans. Why they chose Risa for the peace talks, Fred didn't know or really much care. The thing Fred did care about, however, was shore leave. The Vlad Tepes could potentially orbit over Risa for weeks or maybe even months with most of the crew having nothing to do, so a shore leave rotation was begun.

Unfortunately, Fred missed his first time through the rotation, when, on the same day he was supposed to beam down to the planet's surface, he had a bit of a mishap. It seems that a human in a top hat and 20 drunken midget Catullans singing children's songs crammed themselves into the turbo lift and proceeded to crash it into the ceiling of the turbo lift chute, chanting "Up and Out, great glass turbo lift, Up and Out!" A moment later, Fred stepped through the turbo lift door, falling 13 decks.

Fred was released from sick bay just in time for his second go through the rotation. He had gone to his quarters to shower and shave in preparation for his departure when he was faced with the most bizarre situation. It seems that a cooks assistant in the mess hall had neglected his responsibility, namely that of disposing of the used cooking lard in a timely fashion. It had built up for several months... o.k., o.k., 2 years next week, when the cooks assistant was informed of an inspection during this slow period and hid the lard in the first place he could. Fred walked in on 12 vats of the stuff in his quarters.

Fred, ever easy going, let it be. He was sure somebody would be after it sooner or later, besides, he would have to hurry if he was going to make it in time to beam down.

To add to his enjoyment of the occasion, Fred had decided to take a good hot water shower, instead of his usual sonic shower. Fred was in a deep soapy lather when he heard first his door chime, then a pounding on his door. "Shoot, I'm late!" Fred exclaimed. "I'm coming!" Fred bolted from the shower not even bothering to rinse off. Soap ran into his eyes, he began feeling his way to his bedroom. He tripped, falling head first into a vat of lard. Fred knocked through a second and a third, eventually bouncing through his quarters like a ball in a pin ball machine.

The lieutenant that had been sent to fetch Fred, hearing the commotion, used is security override to open the door. It was just then that Fred, greased from head to toe, flew through the door plastering the poor lieutenant to the far wall, encasing him in the slippery stuff.

Fred bounced off walls, doors, ceiling and floor, seeming to increase in velocity as he went. A cook huffed out from the mess hall, pushing a huge 7 layer wedding cake on a cart. "_That's right,_" Fred thought, "_the Kaplah-p sisters were marrying the Bynar twins today..._"

CRASH

Fred tumbled through the cake, the cart and the cook, not losing an ounce of speed. He was rapidly coming up on an intersection in the corridor, wiping frosting from his eyes. If he could make it through, then he would probably be okay. He should be so lucky. It just so happened that two security officers were carrying an ancient earth oil painting that was to be presented to the Romulan Delegation as a gesture of good will. The two met in the intersection. A millisecond before crashing through the priceless work of art, Fred came to the realization, "_The bull dog is cheating!_"

RRRIIP!

Fred went through the painting as if it wasn't there. This cliche marathon finally ended with another cliche. Fred collided head long into a wall, sticking for a moment from the half congealed lard before sliding to the floor. He lifted himself to his elbows, his head bobbing. Fred began to hallucinate with the head trauma. He was really getting sick of those canaries flying around his head at times like this. Just then, and army of little Caitian women, one for each canary, lept up, grabbing its prey, eviscerating it for Fred's entertainment. Fred grinned. "That'll do, Kitty, that'll do." And Fred passed out, soapy, greasy, smelling of very old French fries and naked as a jay bird.

Fred was released from sick bay weeks later. It wouldn't even have been that long, if it wasn't for the removal of the bride and groom figures from... well... we don't need to go into that.

Maybe now he can get some shore leave?

To be continued in Hangin' With The Gods


	8. Chapter 8

The Adventures of Fred Smith/ Hangin' with the Gods

Fred finally made it to Risa. He was so excited to finally get some vacation in. This was going to be great, there was a beach or a poolside with Fred's name on it, that's for sure.

He was in one of the tourist shops purchasing a novelty umbrella hat, orange Hawaiian shirt, over sized sunglasses, Bermuda shorts, flip-flops, and sun screen that doesn't work, turning all uncovered skin bright red. The other new Lieutenant aboard the Vlad Tepes entered the shop, visually scanning it. He was a typical enough man from Planet Clow. Upon seeing Fred, he honked over. No, really, he had horns tied to his shoes. Honk Honk Honk His big rainbow colored hair bounced up and down with every step. "Fred, Fred, I've been looking for you."

"Hey Beepo," Fred said, "what's up?"

Beepo's big red lips smiled. "Hey Fred, I just found out an old friend from High School is here. He invited me to go with him to the Risan sea for the weekend. His family rented a houseboat. The problem is, I've got guard duty at the peace talks, so I was wondering if you would cover for me? Please! I'll let you squeeze my nose."

Fred sighed, raising his hand. Oh-woo-gah! Ribbons fluttered from Beepo's ears. "I'll do it for you." Right then, an enormous man in a bad, ill fitting plaid suit, over sized bow tie and buck teeth big enough to give a beaver tooth envy, walked into the shop. "That must be your friend now." Fred observed. "Is he a Clown too?"

"No," Beepo said, "he's from Baphoo."

"How does a Clown get to be friends with a Baphoon anyway?" Fred asked.

"We were introduced by his wife. She's from Rintint." Beepo explained.

"Wow!" Fred exclaimed. "What do the children of a Baphoon and a Rintintin look like?"

Beepo reached deep into his pockets, pulling out strings, over sized handkerchiefs tied together, giant rubber sledge hammers, springy snakes in toffee tins and buckets of confetti. "I was wondering where I put that." Beepo said before pulling out a novelty wallet. Undoing the snap, a flood of portraits accordioned out onto the floor. "Oh, there they are." Beepo said pointing out a family portrait.

"Yep," Fred said, "hairy little Baphoons, aren't they?" Beepo nodded, making a silly noise, then folding the photos back into his wallet. Fred helped.

"Go, have fun. I'll take care of everything."

Fred reported for guard duty later that day. He was posted right inside the conference room where peace talks were going on. Fred learned one thing about diplomats, they were so stinking boring. That first day, the meetings were brought to a screeching halt by Fred's snoring so loudly that the windows shook. Another time, the pillar he was leaning on fell over making a horrible crash.

The second day went a bit better. Before reporting for duty, Fred had three pots of coffee hypo-sprayed throughout his body. After that he was awake. Jittery, but awake. Fred didn't know if the caffeine was heightening his awareness or his imagination playing tricks on him, but the Romulan ambassador's hair seemed a bit askew, and did he need a shave? He shrugged off the idea.

It came the time when the Federation delegates were supposed to present the Romulans with the painting. Fred had wondered what was going to happen when this time came. The painting was destroyed, and it was the first thing on the list of what the Romulans wanted. It was even above the complete set of figurines of stylized little boys sitting on the toilet. Signed by the original sculptor no less.

The diplomats very tactfully explained the situation with the painting. "What!" the Romulan ambassador stood. That was the first Romulan Fred had ever sen with a beer gut. Being from the home of Romulan Ale, one might think they would see more Romulans with beer guts, or would they be ale guts?

The Romulan seemed to inflate with anger. No... he was really inflating, growing larger and larger until his head almost touched the tall domed ceiling. Where did that crown of laurels come from?

The man, who appeared no longer attired as Romulan, pulled an enormous bottle of tequila out of his dress thats not a dress, its a robe. Fred knew who liked to go around pretending to be Greek gods and loved really bad art. That's right, he's from Pollux IV, and he had really let himself go downhill.

"What right do you have..." he bellowed, shaking windows harder than Fred had.

Right then another giant figure popped out of nowhere. She had curlers in her hair, and her toga looked suspiciously like a housecoat. "Apollo, will you keep it down!" She said, brandishing a rolling pin. "The twins are trying to take a nap."

"But they ruined the painting I wanted for the den." Apollo said.

His wife, Athena, scanned the displayed items at their feet. "That's an awfully nice collection of Chia Pet's, get those." There was a very nice collection indeed. By this time, there was 78,000 different ones, even the ultra collectible and rare, Chia Bolian. "You can build shelves." With that statement, she vanished.

Apollo rolled his eyes. "Yes dear." He turned to the crowd. "Don't think this gets you off, I should turn you all into pond scum!" This was actually a pretty valid threat. Several years ago, when his god complex was running its strongest, he had set out to create intelligent life. However, despite his best effort, the most he could manage was pond scum. He had done it once, he was sure he could do it again. He swallowed the last of his tequila for confidence, even choking down the worm, then went on. "You pathetic little slugs. I'll bet you're so insignificant you can't even create life?!"

"Um, excuse me." Fred stammered. "I've created life, I'm a god." Fred didn't really see himself as a god, but he was worshiped on Planet Smith.

"What could someone like you create?!" Apollo bellowed.

"Why don't you come with me in my ship and I'll take you to my planet." Fred said casually.

"No, I'll take you." Apollo scooped Fred up and in a flash they were both gone.

The next thing Fred knew, they were standing in a small clearing in the middle of a dense jungle on Planet Smith. This was where the Worm Smiths and the Frog Smiths lived. They were from a high school biology class, and the only two Smiths Fred did on purpose. (He couldn't bear to see them dissected.) Apollo stood next to Fred, human sized now and amazed at how both kinds of creatures resembled their creator. Fred was just about to warn Apollo of the other Smith when, Splat he was attacked by the poo flinging Monkey Smith from Fred's 3rd grade field trip to the zoo.

Fred snickered, despite being covered in the stinky stuff. Apollo did too. "Ya know Fred, you're all right." Apollo said, patting Fred on the back. "I'm going to turn over a new leaf, be more easy going, relax, like you."

"I'm glad to hear it Apollo," Fred grinned.

"You don't have to call me that," Apollo said, "my real name is Stanley Apollonski. I took up Apollo in school to sound more cool." Apollo, I mean, Stanley frowned. "What about the stuff? Athena really liked the Chia Pets."

"I'm sure we can work out something." Fred assured him. "Maybe I can get them to throw some Pet Rocks in on the deal."

Stanley liked that. "Is there anything I can do for you?" He winked, nudging Fred with his elbow. "You know, one god to another?"

"Well," Fred grinned as he contemplated the possibility, "now that you mention it..."

Fred stood in the middle of the stage, wearing a sparkling black tuxedo. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said into the microphone in his hand. He was grinning so big his cheeks hurt. He didn't notice though, because the most beautiful Haitian lovelies were streaming past him now. Black ones and white ones, Siamese, and oh, those tabbies. "Welcome to the 8,276,821st annual Miss. Cait competition!"


	9. Chapter 9

The Adventures of Stupendous Man

Stupendous Man stod on the roof of Gargantuan Towers, surveying the city. His city for... trouble. He felt good watching over City City, keeping its citizens safe and defending it from evil. And his attitude showed in his posture. He stood, chest thrust out, fists on his hips, his perfect white teeth in a perfect grin. His rippling hero muscles under his two-tone orange tights making the green S seem to jump out at you.

"Stupendous Man! Stupendous Man!" a young voice shouted as its carrier ran toward him.

Stupendous Man turned so fast that his lime green cape slapped the boy to the ground. He picked up the boy and brushed off his "I'm with Stupendous" shirt. The shirt was a sore spot with Stupendous Man, because due to bad spelling and poor planning the shirt appeared to read "I'm with Stupid." They got a good deal, so they lived with it.

"What do you need, Helpless Victim Boy?" Stupendous asked.

"We received a signal on the Stupendous pager." H.V. Boy announced pulling the little black box off his belt."

Stupendous Man, took note of the number, strode to a phone in a maintenance area and dialed the Stronghold of Stupenditude. "Is there crime afoot? ... Mother ... I told you not to ever ... alright. Alright, we'll be there in 15 minutes. ... Alright, 10."

"What is it Stupendous?! What is it?!" H.V. Boy asked excitedly. "Is it the diabolical Butter Man, or maybe Captain McFeely the octopus/man hybrid?"

"No." Stupendous Man said, "Meatloaf."

Later, at stately Steel Condominium, Dirk Steel and his next door neighbor's kid Billy Johnson, finished dinner.

"That was great meatloaf, Mrs. Steel." Billy proclaimed.

"Well I'm glad someone appreciates me." Mrs. Steel slapped Dirk on the back of the head.

"I do appreciate you Mother." Dirk grumbled.

Across town, at the abandoned toilet paper factory, Catatonia explains her dastardly plan to her half dazed thugs.

"First, we will destroy the world's supply of toilet paper, then we will flood the market with my mind control toilet paper. Once they all use it, the world will be ours!" Catatonia cackled in laughter. "It's the purrrfect plan." She itched her side. She knew she should have gotten a flea collar when they were on sale. "Now to work."

Back at Dirk Steel's stately condo, Dirk sat up suddenly. "My Stupendous notions are making me itch."

Mother Steel interrupted, "That's because you need a shower."

"No, theres trouble brewing in the abandoned factory district." Dirk turned to Billy, "We could be late, you had better use cover #37."

Billy picked the phone. "I'll call my Mom to tell her I'm sleeping over."

Dirk thrust his chest out, one hand pointing in the air. "To the Stronghold of Stupenditude!"

Dirk and Billy dashed upstairs, closely followed by Mrs. Steel. "If you leave the spare bedroom, excuse me, the Stronghold of Stupidity," she said in a condescending tone, "as much of a mess as last time I'll kick your stupendous butts. And don't think I can't..."

In an instant, Dirk Steel and Billy Johnson became Stupendous Man and Helpless Victim Boy. Grabbing H.V. Boy's shirt collar, Stupendous Man flew out the open window, shouting the catchphrase he's become so well known for, "Super Dupperrrrrrrrrrrr!"

Stupendous Man and H.V. Boy broke into a thrift store, a sewing class, and a food kitchen before stumbling across Catatonia's abandoned toilet paper factory. "OK, Helpless Victim Boy, you stand over there, that will leave you extremely vulnerable while I cut through this door with my laser breath. No, over a bit to your left. That's right, on that thing that looks kind of like a trap door. That's it."

With a mighty exhalation, Stupendous Man activated his laser breath with it's trademark minty fresh scent, and burned his way through the factory door. He rushed in to find himself surrounded by a group of dazed thugs.

Catatonia strutted in on a catwalk. "You're just in time to see me take over the world, Stupendous Man."

Stupendous Man glared up at her. "Catatonia! I should have known. What sort of skulduggery are you up to this time?"

"I'm going to take over the world with my mind control toilet paper." She held up a roll like a trophy then pulled it back to her, clawing it repeatedly and taking several bites from one side. "Dazed thugs!" She ordered, "Get him!"

"Pow!"

"Whammo!"

"Zowie!"

"Bang!"

"Crash!"

"Kaboom!"

All of the dazed thugs lay unconscious at Stupendous Man's feet. Stupendous Man looked back up at Catatonia. "Now it's your turn!" He said, playing the drama a bit heavy.

"Not if you ever want to see him again." She hissed, holding up Helpless Victim Boy, wrapped methodically from head to toe in mind control toilet paper. she sprang to the end of the cat walk and leapt into her waiting convertible (which looked suspiciously like a cat laying on its back, playing with a ball of string). The engine raced and the cat-mobile tore out of the building and down the street.

Stupendous Man, once again shouting his catch phrase "Super Duperrr." flew out of the building and gave chase. "_It was amazing," _Stupendous Man thought, "_how easy it was to lose a convertible car in the shape of a cat on its back, playing with a ball of string, in City City._"

He flew high above the city, scanning for any sign of Catatonia and poor Helpless Victim Boy with his X-ray smell. He spotted...

Beep!

... entering the Catnip factory

... Beep!

"Lieutenant Smith."

Stupendous Man's arms and legs went limp as he sighed deeply. He seemed to be just hanging there for a moment. Then he straightened himself up. "Computer, freeze program." He said, then sighing again, continued. "This is Smith." Speaking as cheerfully as he could muster.

A nasaly voice seemed to come from everywhere, "Lieutenant Smith, please report to Waste Management immediately."

Catatonia stood 30 feet below, pulling off a set of fake rubber ears to reveal a set of real Catian ears. "Can I go now, Fred?" She said, hoping to get out of doing the last scene, where she uses her feline wiles to escape.

"Yeah." Fred said grinning. "I guess we're done. Should we try again next week?" But it was too late, she was out the door at "Yeah."

"Computer," Fred ordered, "end program."

The safety protocols that were holding Fred 30 feet in the air ended with the program.


	10. Chapter 10

The Adventures of Fred Smith / Meet the Smiths

Long before he opened his eyes, Fred knew he wasn't where he had gone to bed. This was a skill developed over a lifetime of being rendered unconscious in one place, only to wake up somewhere completely different. Usually, this was a convenient sick bay bed. But this was no sick bay. It felt like no sick bay he had ever been in anyway. Besides, last night was the first time in over a week that Fred had not slept on a bio-bed, but his very own bed.

The smell of foam rubber filled Fred's nostrils, filling him with dread. His worst fears were confirmed, however, when he opened his eyes. Every hard surface and every sharp corner was heavily padded. Every trip hazard removed and every sharp object removed. In short, a loose representation of his childhood bedroom.

Fred sat up. "Mother! Father! I know it's you, come on out."

Two figures came from the other side of a force field. The first was Brigadier Admiral Smith. Brigadier Admiral was not his rank, but his name. Apparently Grandpa Smith had high expectations for his youngest son. In Starfleet, Dad had never made it past engineers assistant, which was better than his older brother, Dirty Bum Smith, and his little sister,Pizza Face Smith.

Fred's mother dutifully followed her husband through the field. Her birth name was Jane Doe. But this caused her many problems in life. When she was old enough, she decided to change it to Grazelda Jankowzkawitzki, because she liked how it rolled off the tongue. Fred's Mom changed her name several more times to such things as Fuzzy Bunny, Ice Cream Sundae with Chocolate Sprinkles and a Cherry, and #. She was going by the name ThePerson Formerly Known as #, when she met the man who would become Fred's Dad. She changed her name after they married to Brigadier Admiral Smith, thereby giving new meaning to the concept of taking her husband's name. Later she changed it to Fuzzy Bunny Slippers, which it remains to this day.

"Hello, dearie!" Fred's mom said in a sugary sweet voice. A voice sweet enough to give anyone a sugar headache.

"Pip pip, my boy!" Dad chimed in, trying to sound the part his name might suggest.

"Mom...Dad." Fred said, touching his fingers to the forcefield that was separating them. ZAP! Fred stuck his finger in his mouth. "What is going on here?" His speech was garbled. After all, his finger was in his mouth.

"Hear! Hear!" Dad said, "We've liberated you, see! Starfleet is a dangerous place for one such as yourself."

"You can't just kidnap a Starfleet officer like this, there will be consequences." Fred demanded.

"Nonsense." Dad demanded back. "Your mother has taken care of everything."

"Yes, dear. I left a note." Mom said sweetly.

Fred was confused. "A note?"

"I left a note excusing you from Starfleet." Mom explained.

Fred was dumbfounded. "My Mommy... wrote me a note... excusing me from Starfleet." He said as if he were explaining it to himself. "I should have seen that coming."

"Now look here, my young man," There went Dad again, always to the point. "it's almost time for supper. Do hope you'll put on your safe suit and join us."

Fred cringed. The thought of the 'safety suit' filled Fred's mind with the worst memories of his childhood. It had been designed specifically to keep Fred from hurting himself in any way, shape or form. Unfortunately, it weighed upwards of 200 lbs. He hadn't been forced to wear it as much after it fell out of the closet once and nearly crushed him when he was 12.

In the closet, he gazed upon the offending garment. _Man, that thing is an ugly monstrosity. _Fred thought to himself. Suddenly, a harsh realization flashed through his mind. "This thing is way too small for me!"

"I'm sorry Dear," Mom frowned, "we just didn't have time to replicate you a bigger one."

"Give it the old University try for Mum andPop, why don't you?" Dad said, trying to sound enthusiastic. "That's the spirit." The two started through the door. "Supper's promptly at 6, and if you're late, there will be no cherries in a cloud for you."

Not having anything else to do, and being hungry despite there being cherries in a cloud on the menu, Fred began to struggle his way into the safety suit. As he wrestled the shirt over his head, he couldn't help but to sing the song his Mom sang every time she helped him into the suit as a boy. "S-s-s-s, A-a-a-a, F-f-f-f, E-e-e-e, T-t-t-t, Y-y-y-y. Safety! Suit!" Fred began to dance. "Boop boop BOOP BOOP ! boop boop ee doopy doop. Boop boop BOOP BOOP! Boop boop ee doo."

By the time he was done with his little song and dance, Fred found he nearly had the suit on. Yes, the pants now only went down to his knees, and the shirt left his forearms and midriff exposed, but it was on. All that was left was to don the helmet, which was 2/3rds of the suits weight and undoubtedly too small.

Fred paused to admire the childish pinups on the wall. The twin Caitian sisters, the Kolson twins, shame what happened to them. AndPurrdona, the biggest Caitian pop star ever.

Maybe it was his imagination, or maybe it was the lack of oxygen from wearing a shirt so small he could barely breathe... but the image in the poster began to dance to her #1 hit, Like aPersian. The sight startled Fred, causing him to drop his helmet on his foot. Fred hopped around the room, holding the injured appendage with both hands, managing to stay upright for a suprisingly long time. Fred finally lost his balance.

It's a funny thing, physics. You can change one small thing on any given equation, and drastically change its outcome. This situation was no different. You see, the rubber-like safety suit was designed specifically to cushion a pre-teen Fred against anything. The thing is, Fred is no longer a pre-teen, and definatly weighed more. Much more. The unfortunate conclusion of this new variable was that the safety suit had more bounce. Actually, to say it had more bounce is an understatement. The effect could be more accurately compared to one of those rubber superballs that you get in the coin operated machines at the store, being shot into a room from a shotgun.

The bounce was further amplified by the fact that every surface in the room was covered in the same material that the suit was made out of, with the exception of one. Fred's head collided with the rigid helmet of the safety suit, which was designed to keep Fred from doing such things as poking his eye out, swallowing something he shouldn't, and sticking something in his ear which would inevitably take root. Fred never saw the use of the helmet. He had never even come close to putting out an eye.

Fred was happy to see the impending collision and the inevitable unconsciousness to come. All the padding in the room had enabled him to remain conscious far longer than he would have been able in most situations like this. It was a bit un-nerving.

The next morning, Fred began to regain consciousness in his room, which doubles as a fully-functioning medical bay. Mom's voice penetrated the darkness. "Oh, you're awake dearie!"

Fred opened his eyes. "So, it wasn't a nightmare."

"Don't be silly, sweetie. Of course it wasn't a nightmare." Mom said. "How's my sweet boy?" She pinched Fred's cheek.

"I'll be fine, Mom." Fred said, sitting up more to stop the cheek pinching than anything. It didn't work. She pinched his cheek again.

"I've got good news and bad news for you sweetheart. Which one do you want first?" Mom said tapping her chin.

Dad walked in just then. "I say." He cleared his throat, grumbling incoherently. "Save the good news for last. End it on a good note and all that." He did some more incoherent grumbling.

"Very well then Darling." Mom went on. "The bad news is, theres no more cherries in a cloud. I'm sorry, I tried to save you some, but you know how your Father is. He starts in and can't stop until its all gone."

Fred did know how he was. Once, Dad accidentally got locked in a cargo bay full of huge vats of the stuff overnight. Let's just say that theres not always room for cherries in a cloud. He had eaten so much that he literally exploded. He was in sick bay a whole month getting put back together. This explained a lot about Dad.

"I would have thought that was the good news." Fred said, snickering to himself.

"Don't be silly, dearie." Mom pinched his cheek again.

Dad took Fred's quip a bit more seriously. "I say." Grumble, grumble, grumble. "You'll speak to your mother with respect or I'll..." Grumble, grumble. "Wash your mouth out with soap."

Fred chose to ignore that, going on. "So, what's your other news?"

"Well sweetie," Mom stood up proud, "we've arrived at the family reunion!"

To be continued in:  
Smith Family Reunion.


End file.
